


Beer

by jasmasson



Series: The Beer Boys [2]
Category: Troy (2004) RPF
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-19
Updated: 2005-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-19 09:39:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/199465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasmasson/pseuds/jasmasson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eric talks to Sean over beer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: And I said to Orlando, “Orlando,” I said, “Do you really love Eric?” And Orlando said. “At the tone the time will be 10.05 and thirty seconds... beep.”  
> A/N: Sequel to Wake Up Call for [](http://montmorency.livejournal.com/profile)[**montmorency**](http://montmorency.livejournal.com/) because she noticed that Orlando didn’t tell Eric he loved him.  
> 

***

“He got me beer! Beer! For *Valentines Day*. That’s not Valentines Day. That’s, that’s *Tuesday*.”

Sean hid a grin at Eric’s despair.

“So. What did you get him?”

“Well, I told him I hadn’t got him anything. And he didn’t bat an eye. He laughed! The bastard *laughed* and called me an unromantic git.”

“You *told* him you didn’t get him anything?” Sean frowned. “What did you *actually* get him?”

Eric dropped his head into his hands.

“A ring.”

Sean’s mouth dropped open.

“A ring? As in, a *wedding* ring?”

Eric nodded, miserably.

“But you didn’t give it to him?”

“Beer, Sean. He bought me *beer*.”

“So he’s not into Valentines Day. So what? That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t want a ring.”

“He doesn’t love me.” Eric moaned, warming to his theme, and downing his beer.

“Oh God,” Sean picked up his own beer. “You’re such a maudlin drunk.”

“It’s true.” Eric looked up and blinked tragically at Sean. “He’s only ever told me he loved me once, and that’s only because I told him what to say when he took me back.”

“So you want him to tell you he loves you?”

“*Yes*,” Eric said emphatically.

“Jesus, mate, when did you become such a girl?”

“This isn’t fucking funny, Bean,” Eric glared at him, “I tell him *all the time*. I left my wife. I bought a ring. Is it too much to ask for an ‘I love you Eric,’ and a pat on the head?”

“Listen, mate, thanks to your total lack of respect for the concept of To Much Information, I happen to know for a fact he gives you a lot more than a pat on the head.” Sean grimaced in proper heterosexual fashion and downed his beer manfully. He motioned to the waitress to bring more. It was going to be a long night. He was going to need beer.

“It’s not the same,” Eric pouted.

“Listen,” Sean said, picking up his new beer. “I’m telling you this because I’m your friend, and I’m Orlando’s friend, and I want you both to be happy, and *not* because you deserve it in any way. Understood?”

Eric gave him a hurt look. “Understood. You’re mean when you’re drunk, by the way.”

“Of course he loves you, you stupid bastard!”

“Then why doesn’t he say so?”

“I say again, ‘you stupid bastard’!” Sean poked him. “You shagged him and dumped him, and yet when you left your wife, he took you back immediately. He let you move in with him. He lets you shag him on a daily basis in many varied and often quite kinky ways – and again, feel free *not* to share these things with me – and you’ve been going out for 6 months. And, you know, it’s not like he doesn’t have other options. What is it about this, exactly, that suggests to you he doesn’t love you?”

“Then why doesn’t he *say* so? Even if he didn’t say it spontaneously, when I say it he should say, ‘I love you too’. Hell, it’s only polite! For chrissakes, I’d take a ‘ditto’, or something at a push, but no, he just says ‘show me’. And then I do, and then conversation is difficult with my tongue up his ass.”

“*Fuck* Eric,” Sean yelled, almost choking on his beer. “There! Did you see it? Right there! Too much information, man. By a fucking mile.”

“Whatever, man. Don’t be such a wuss. He lets me put my cock in his mouth, but he won’t say ‘I love you’? What is *with* that?”

“OK, stop, seriously, before I have to kill you.”

“He doesn’t love me,” Eric mourned, drinking yet more beer. “He’s just using me for the fantastic sex until someone else comes along.”

“You wanker!” Sean hit him around the head. “You *know* he loves you. You knew he loved you in Malta when you treated him horribly. You’ve no right to say something like that.”

“Jesus,” Eric put his hands up, “calm down. Yeah, OK, I knew he loved me in Malta, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I screwed up. We’ve established that. Really. A lot. But he’s gotten over me. It’s obvious. I screwed up, and he only took me back because he felt responsible for me leaving my wife.” Eric sniffed.

“OK, no more beer for you,” Sean said. “You’re talking utter shite.”

“It’s not shite,” Eric said, with the wounded dignity only the very drunk can attain. “Orlando’s demonstrative. He tells the cleaner he loves her when she finds his keys. But he doesn’t tell me. He doesn’t want to lead me on.”

“I can’t listen to this. I thought you gay blokes were meant to be sensitive, but you’ve got all the sensitivity of a brick.”

“Us ‘gay blokes’ are meant to be sensitive? Way to be politically correct, Bean.”

“Why do you think he doesn’t tell you, you moron? He doesn’t want to let you hurt him again. And he thinks you’re going to change your mind and he wants to make it easier for you when you decide gaiety isn’t for you, and it’s heterosexuality and beer from here on in. He’s trying to keep your options open.” Sean sipped his beer. “You wanker,” he added, as an afterthought.

“How can he think that?!” Eric asked, indignantly. “I tell him I love him all the time. Why doesn’t he believe me?”

“Hmm, well, let me think,” Sean said sarcastically.

“Oh come on! Do I have to pay for that forever?”

“He believes you think you mean it,” Sean said placatingly. “He just doesn’t think you really know what you want.”

“Why does everyone think that? Even in Malta, I knew what I wanted, I knew I loved him, I just didn’t know what to do about it! And I’ve come to terms with it now. I’ve embraced the gay. I’ve bought a ring. I’m crying into my beer because my boyfriend won’t tell me he loves me. The only way I could be gayer was if it was a Bacardi Breezer instead of a beer!”

“OK, OK!” Sean put up his hands. “I believe you. But I’m not the one who gets hurt if you’re wrong. Don’t tell me, tell him.”

“I will,” Eric said, standing up. “I’ll do it now. Little bastard, not believing me. I’ll show him, self righteous little prick.”

“You may want to phrase it slightly differently.” Eric swayed as he picked up his jacket. “In fact, you may want to wait until you can say it without slurring it.”

“No,” Eric said determinedly. “Gonna tell him now. Then he can forgive me, and tell me he loves me and then we can...”

“*Eric*!” Sean raised a hand. “Remember, not too much information please.”

“...snuggle. And then we can *snuggle*.”

“Fucking hell,” Sean said as he assisted Eric out of the bar. “You really are so fucking gay.”

***

Part 2 to follow. Orlando tells him he loves him for [](http://montmorency.livejournal.com/profile)[**montmorency**](http://montmorency.livejournal.com/). And they snuggle... (and have crazy monkey sex, obviously).


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric comes home after drinking lots of beer.

***

“Orlando!”

*Bang*

“OW!”

“OrrllAAndo!”

Orlando sat up in bed as heavy footsteps approached. It sounded like Eric was jumping down the hall. He grinned. Eric should know a lot better than to try and out-drink Sean. Orlando had missed the evening’s festivities because of a late script meeting, but it sounded as though Eric had kindly drunk his share for him.

Eric hopped noisily into the room.

“Orlando,” he moaned, falling onto the bed, landing heavily on Orlando’s legs. “I hurt my foot.” He looked up at Orlando upside down. “Have you moved the door?” he accused.

“No,” Orlando grinned down at him. “How many were you seeing?”

“Just one,” Eric replied. “But it was a slippery little sucker. Kept moving about.”

“Got to watch those doors,” Orlando said solemnly.

“And the stairs. They kept moving too. Bastards.”

Orlando laughed.

“You really are drunk aren’t you?

“I am not!” Eric said indignantly. “I unlocked the door *and* deactivated the alarm.”

“The alarm wasn’t on.”

“It wasn’t?”

Orlando shook his head.

“Hmm,” Eric frowned as he thought back to pressing buttons on an electrical device. “Maybe it was the microwave.”

“Great. You really should know better than to get into serious drinking with Beanie.” A horrible thought struck. “It wasn’t a bet was it? I don’t owe him my house or anything?”

“No, I was just drowning my sorrows.”

“Ah, poor you, with your Hollywood career, your fabulous good looks and your hot movie star boyfriend.”

“Are you?” Eric asked, looking up at him.

“Hot? Well, if you believe the magazines...”

“My boyfriend, you idiot.”

Orlando blinked, suddenly looking cautious.

“I thought so.”

“You’re not just saying that? Because I left my wife and am so stupidly in love with you? You didn’t just do it because you felt sorry for me?”

“Eric, you’ve lived with me for six months. I’m not that nice. And we’ve been shagging all that time. I’m not that much of a slut.”

“So you love me, then?”

“Guess so,” Orlando smiled at him and patted his head. Eric may have felt a little patronised, if he hadn’t felt so sick.

Instead as Orlando stroked his head, Eric felt a wave of gratitude.

“You’re beautiful.”

“And you’re heavy,” Orlando replied.

“You see!” Eric yelled. “You see! That’s what I’m *talking* about. I pay you a compliment and you call me fat!”

“God!” Orlando began pulling at him. “Don’t be such a girl. And get off my legs, they’re going numb. Get up here.”

Eric slithered gracelessly up the bed to lie beside Orlando.

And now that he was lying down properly, he was immensely tired. But Orlando was grinning at him. Eric knew he was pretty drunk really, and that many boyfriends might not appreciate large, loud, drunken, leg-squashing partners at 1am in the morning. His boyfriend was *great*.

“Do you want sex?” He offered, struggling to open his jeans. “I’m not up to much, but I could just spread my legs and lie here.”

Orlando laughed. “Tempting. But I prize consciousness quite highly in a partner. I’ll help you get your jeans off, anyway, though.”

“Saw through my Machiavellian scheme, huh?”

Eric collapsed flat on the bed again, as Orlando got up and pulled off his boots and jeans. It was for the best, really. With the room moving the way it was, he should probably be as still as possible.

When his jeans and boots were off he looked up to see Orlando looking down at him with a funny expression on his face.

“Snuggle?” He appealed, opening his arms.

Orlando laughed ruefully and shook his head.

“You’ve got no right at all to be this cute. I’ve a good mind to take you up on your offer, consciousness or no.” But as he slipped into bed, he just pulled Eric against him and let him rest his head on his chest.

“Love you,” Eric said as he closed his eyes.

But he didn’t hear Orlando answer.

***

“Oh. My. God.” Eric groaned as he woke up. But softly, very softly, because he didn’t want to make his head explode which surely would happen with the slightest noise.

His hangover was hell. He blinked warily, squinting against the cruel, cruel sunlight, as he looked around the empty room.

His eyes rested on *praise the lord!* a pint of water and some Alka Seltzer on the bedside cabinet.

He reached for it and saw a note propped up by this manna from heaven.

*Serves you right, you wanker.*

He smiled faintly as he put the tablets in, and gulped down the fizzy water.

How much of a fool of himself had he made last night? He remembered being called a big girl more than once, so probably at least 5 out of 10 on a sliding scale.

But any amount of mocking from Orlando or Sean was worth it to hear Orlando say he loved him. But. Wait! He hadn’t actually said it, had he? Eric thought back. His head throbbed painfully. He went through the burn. No, he hadn’t. ‘I guess so!’ That’s what he’d said. ‘I guess so!’ Little bastard! He wasn’t going to get away with it any more. That was it. Eric was going to hear flowery purple prose of devotion from Orlando or he’d or he’d... OK. He’d never leave Orlando. But he’d be very cross indeed. So there.

***

“Hi honey, I’m home.” By the time Orlando returned from his script meeting that evening, Eric’s hangover had gone and he was ready for him.

He waited for Orlando to come into the living room, where there was a candlelit dinner for two set out.

Orlando raised an eyebrow.

“You cooked?”

“I ordered.”

Orlando grinned. “I was prepared to be impressed.”

“You *should* be impressed. I had to decide on a restaurant. Choose the food. The table decorations. *Use the phone*.”

“Wow, there really is no end to your talents.” Orlando surveyed the elaborate table. “Special occasion?”

“Valentines day.”

“That was last week.”

“We’re trying again. I don’t think we hit the right level of romance. Call that one a dress rehearsal. This is the real thing.”

“What, getting drunk, shagging on the beach and nearly being caught by the lifeguard not romantic enough for you?”

“No. I don’t know why shagging on the beach has such a high reputation for romance, anyway. It took us hours in the shower to get sand out of those hard-to-reach places.”

“Yeah, but that was kind of fun too.”

“Fun? Perhaps. Romantic? No.” Eric shook his head. “I want romance. So we’re going again.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart,” Orlando fluttered his eyelashes extravagantly as he sat down. “Romance me.”

“Wine,” Eric poured a glass, “candlelight, good food and thee. What more could I want?”

“Hmm,” Orlando pretended to think as he sipped his drink. “Wine, not beer. Proper food, not takeaway. Candlelight, not light from the TV. You’re wearing aftershave. Maybe some cheesy, romantic music? Then you’ll have all your boxes ticked.”

“Already covered. I’ve got Celine Dion coming round later.”

Orlando choked on his wine in horror. “Man, that’s not even funny.”

***

The evening went well. The food was delicious, and Eric decided he did, indeed, have excellent ordering skills.

They talked about Orlando’s script, which was progressing well, and a couple of scripts Eric had been reading to decide on his next project.

“Well,” Orlando said, as they finished off the last of an excellent crème brulee. “If any of those scripts call for a grand romantic scene, you’re all set. Nine out of ten.”

“Nine? *Nine*? Why not ten?”

“Should have got me some roses.”

“You’re allergic!”

“Practicality should never get in the way of a good romantic gesture,” Orlando smirked. “I stand by nine.”

“Hmph.”

“Well, nine’s still good enough to get you laid, anyway. Let’s go up.”

“Not yet. I’m going for that ten.”

“Really?” Orlando looked sceptical, but sat back and opened his arms. “Hit me.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Eric said as he got off his chair and got on one knee next to Orlando.

Who looked alarmed.

“What are you *doing*?!” he asked in a slightly high pitched voice.

“What does it look like, moron? I’m proposing.” Eric grabbed Orlando’s hand.

“OK, OK. Ten out of ten. Happy now?” Orlando tried to extract his hand from Eric’s grip. But Eric had huge hands.

“Shut up and listen.”

“You know, calling me a moron and telling me to shut up isn’t helping your score. Let’s call it nine and a half and go to bed.” Orlando looked a bit desperate.

“Nope. I’m doing this. I lost my nerve in the face of the beer last time, but there’s no beer to protect you this time. I got wine. Drink of romance. The wine’s on my side”

Eric took out the ring from his pocket.

“Oh, God,” Orlando whispered weakly. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly serious. Now shut *up* and listen.” Eric squeezed his hand. “Look. I know you think I don’t mean it. Or that I do mean it, but I’m wrong, or something, I can’t remember what Beanie said exactly.”

“You’re taking romantic advice from Beanie? Thrice divorced bloke from Sheffield?” Orlando made one last attempt to stop him.

“Will you *shut the fuck up*?!” Eric said in exasperation. “I’m seriously going to jeopardise my score if I have to gag you.

“Look. I love you. I mean it. I think I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, and it’s only gotten worse the longer I’ve know you. These last six months have been the best in my life. You make me laugh, you make me crazy, you make me *happy*. You’ve filled my life. I can’t imagine living without you ever again.

“And yes, OK, I’ve made mistakes. But I’ve tried to make them up to you these past six months. And we’ve been happy, haven’t we?

Orlando nodded, dumbly.

“I think that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve made mistakes, yes, because nobody’s perfect, not even you. You’re not perfect because every time I tell you how much I love you, you joke or avoid it, and joking aside, that’s hurt. I want to spend the rest of my like with you. Now, tell me it’s the same for you, or tell me if it isn’t. I *need* to know.”

Orlando shook his head.

“This isn’t fair,” he whispered. “This isn’t fair. You really think I could tell you I didn’t love you while you’re *proposing*? That’s not fair at all.”

Eric felt sick. “I just,” he wet his dry lips. “I just wanted you to know how serious I am. I love you so much I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Making you as happy as you make me. But if you don’t want that.” He took a deep breath. “If you don’t want that, just tell me, and I won’t mention it again. I hope you’ll still let me be with you until you find someone else.”

Orlando snorted. “Someone else? Someone *else*? You’ve taken over my life, you bastard. I live and breathe for you. There’s no one else in the *world* for me, and you *must* know that. I show you every day. You tell me, yes, and you show me, I know. But I don’t want to tell you. You know why? Because it takes away the one tiny piece of control I still have left. I’ve opened my life, my home, my heart, to you and you’ve moved on in and taken over like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And I don’t know what I’d have left if you ever went.”

“I’m not going to go!” Eric yelled. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you. Why don’t you believe me?”

“It’s not that. It’s not that I *don’t* believe you. It’s just. I’m scared. I never thought I’d feel this way and it’s fucking scary, you insensitive wanker. You’re so open. You took to this so fucking easily when you moved in. It was like you’d been here forever, like the time before hadn’t happened. Like you could never see another problem in our lives. And it’s not going to *be* that easy.

Orlando paused for breath.

“You’ve left your wife. We’re both in the public eye. If, no *when*, this gets out there’s going to be hell to pay. Relationships are hard enough without being gay, Hollywood relationships. I don’t know how you can be so sure, when so much could go wrong.”

“I’m sure, you wanker, because I love you,” Eric said. “I *know* nothing’s ever going to change the way I feel about you. I can’t know what’s around the corner, but I believe in us. I’ve been converted. I’ve seen the light. I have faith. I’m Saint *fucking* Paul. I’m on the road to Damascus. Now where the hell are you?!”

“We don’t have to do this,” Orlando said, earnestly. “We can take it easy. It’ll be easier if we don’t make too big a deal out of it.”

“For God’s sake. You really think that? If we split up - and I swear to you, it would be over my dead body - but if we did, do you *really* think it would be easier if you’d never told me you loved me?”

Orlando paused.

“Well, no. No, but...”

“No. You’re just being an idiot. A scared idiot,” Eric was beginning to smile.

Orlando fought his own smile.

“You know, I have very valid concerns here that you are treating too lightly, you wanker. Things could seriously go horribly wrong when we’re shoved out of the closet.”

“I don’t care. I love you, and if you love me, then I don’t give a flying *fuck* what anyone else thinks. If they’ve got a problem, fuck ‘em. We’ll stay indoors all day and have sex instead of making movies,” He grinned. “I don’t know about you, but frankly I could live with that.”

Orlando snorted. “Eric, we *will* have problems. You say that now, but there are some really nasty things they can say about us. It’ll be horrible.”

“I *don’t care*. If you love me, we’ll just deal with them when they come. Now. *Do* you love me?”

Orlando smiled. “You didn’t get that from our conversation? The stuff about living and breathing for you too subtle?”

“Say. It,” Eric ground out through clench teeth.

Orlando sighed. “I love you. Happy? The sun rises and sets in your eyes. A day without you is a day without sunshine. My heart beats in time with yours. I live to...”

The rest of Orlando’s oratory was cut off with a kiss.

“Marry me?”

“Sure,” Orlando replied casually, as if it had never been in doubt. “Do we have to move? Are gay marriages legal in California?”

“Uh. I don’t know. But I’m doing it, even if we have to move to Amsterdam.”

“You didn’t find out? Shoddy, proposal, Eric. Shoddy. Definitely back to nine out of ten. In fact, maybe eight. We probably shouldn’t have had all the arguing and swearing mid-proposal.”

“Fuck off.” Eric stood, grabbed Orlando and picked him up in his arms.

Orlando yelped and grabbed on.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Let go, you idiot.”

“No,” Eric said, heading for the stairs. “I’m sweeping you off your feet and getting back up to nine.”

He grunted as he went very slowly up the stairs.

“You know, I think a trip to A&E to round off the evening, will probably get you a minus score.”

He gratefully deposited Orlando on the bed as soon as they arrived.

“You know, for such a pretty boy, you’re damn heavy.”

“You see?” Orlando said, tragically, “I knew it. You just called me fat. As soon as I tell you I love you, you start taking me for granted. No more ‘you’re beautiful’, ‘you’re perfect’, ‘I love you Orlando’, it’ll be all, ‘you’re fat’, ‘you’re ugly’, ‘what’s your name again?’”

“Oliver, wasn’t it?” Eric said, pulling off his clothes.

“Ha,” Orlando began to take off his own clothes. “You call out Beanie’s name while we’re doing it, and I’m leaving you.”

“Viggo’s?”

“Fuck you.”

Naked, they looked at each other.

“You really are fucking perfect, you know that?”

“Yeah,” Orlando grinned. “I know. On the other hand, you’re getting a bit chubby Bana.”

“Fuck you!”

“It’s OK,” Orlando was sniggering. “I like them big.”

“Oh yeah?” Eric threw himself on the bed and covered Orlando, stretching out as much as he could, making the size difference as marked as possible. “How big? Big enough to hold you down? Big enough to hold your sweet little ass completely in my hands?” He pushed his burgeoning erection against him. “Big enough so you feel it for days?”

Orlando’s eyes darkened. “Fuck, yeah.”

They kissed, hot and deep until they were moaning softly into each other’s mouths.

Eric broke it off, finally and sat up. He picked up the ring box from the bedside table and opened it.

“Forever,” he said, putting it on Orlando’s finger. “I promise.”

Orlando nodded, and they were both silent for a moment.

He admired the look of plain gold band against Orlando’s tanned skin. “Looks good. I like it. I want everyone to know you belong to me.”

“I’m getting you one, too. Everyone should know you’re mine.”

“You’d better,” Eric growled as he sucked at Orlando’s neck.

They kissed long and hard, Orlando’s hands roaming over Eric’s muscled back.

Eric sat up with a grin. “You ruined it, you know. I had a whole scene planned when I bought that ring last week. It was going to be so romantic. But then you got me fucking beer for Valentines Day...”

“You *love* beer.”

“... and I had to wait. So I figured, maybe romance isn’t the way to your heart. I had a Plan B.” He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out another box.

“Involving a different ring.”

He showed Orlando the cock ring in the box.

“What do you think? Would this have worked better?”

Orlando’s eyes were black. “Try me.”

Orlando laid back as Eric carefully put it on him.

Eric grinned at the sight of Orlando lying there flushed and naked, bound cock hardening.

“Good enough to eat,” he said with a wicked grin, and sucked him into his hot mouth.

“Oh fuck,” Orlando moaned, clutching at Eric’s hair.

Eric lavished attention on the throbbing cock in his mouth; delighting in the soft moans and curses Orlando gave him in response.

He licked gently around the metal holding Orlando’s cock captive, searching out the contrast of cool, unyielding metal and hot flesh. Orlando’s moans reached new pitch.

He pulled off Orlando, reluctantly letting the hot flesh go. Orlando was sweating and panting, eyes dilated, his hot cock straining against its bonds.

“Jesus, fuck Eric,” he moaned. His eyes locked on him. “Kiss me.”

Eric obeyed, biting Orlando’s lips and sucking at his tongue and tasting arousal and desperation.

Orlando moaned hotly into his mouth, gasping for breath.

Eric moved down again, pausing at Orlando’s cock to drop a kiss on the throbbing flesh, then pushed his legs up and back.

He licked down from Orlando’s cock to lick tenderly at his entrance.

“Oh fuck, oh God, oh fuck.”

Eric ignored Orlando’s litany to tease the tight hole, licking and biting gently.

Orlando’s voice was hoarse.

“Fuck, Eric please, fuck.”

Eric thrust his tongue in; delighting in the howl this earned him.

He tongue fucked Orlando gently, holding his legs firmly as Orlando writhed underneath him.

“Eric,” Orlando begged, “Jesus Eric, fuck me, please, God, fuck me now.”

Eric smiled and pulled back. He blew gently on Orlando’s sensitive asshole.

“*Fuck*!” Eric watched as the hole twitched and winked in response.

“Tell me again.”

“Fuck Eric, please,” Orlando was incoherent. “Fuck me.”

Eric licked up Orlando’s rigid, throbbing, tormented cock.

“Tell me.”

“I love you,” Orlando moaned. “Jesus I love you so much. I need you, please.”

“You made me wait so long,” Eric said, sucking gently at the crown. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, I love you, I need you. Fuck me or I’ll kill you, you bastard!”

Eric grinned and reached for the lube.

Eric didn’t exactly take long to prepare himself and Orlando – he was pretty desperate himself – but there had been much begging and pleading and promises of dire revenge and horrible violence by the time he sank into Orlando’s body.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Orlando moaned, reaching for his cock. “Fuck yes.”

Eric grabbed Orlando’s hands, and pushed them down by his head.

Orlando struggled, but Eric had both weight and leverage on his side.

“Just feel it,” he whispered hotly into Orlando’s ear, “just feel how much I love you.”

He fucked him hard, kissing and sucking at his neck, his face, his ear, his lips as Orlando writhed and moaned underneath him.

He fucked deliberately, thrusting against Orlando’s prostate and then, when Orlando was almost sobbing between pleas; he reached down and released the ring.

Orlando went rigid and actually *screamed* as he came, his eyes rolling back. Eric rode through the clenching of Orlando’s tight body and came himself, shouting Orlando’s name.

He pushed Orlando’s trembling legs down and rolled off him, holding him close.

“Jesus fucking God,” Orlando moaned. “You’ve killed me.”

“And you’ve deafened me. If I’d have known you were gonna scream like a girl, I’d have worn ear plugs.”

“Fuck you, you bastard. As soon as I recover the use of my legs I’m finding that knife.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t do that. You love me. You said so. A lot. In fact you screamed it.”

Orlando blushed. “Fuck off.”

“Let’s go visit Beanie, tomorrow. Tell him the good news.”

“OK. You don’t have to tell him everything though, poor guy.”

“But it’s such fun watching him squirm.”

“Bastard.”

“Will you wear my ring?”

“I am wearing it.” Orlando held up his hand.

“No, the other one,” Eric said with a grin. “Then I can watch you *both* squirm.”

***


End file.
